The 38th Hunger Games
by katana44
Summary: Jeremiah Drude is selected as district eleven's male tribute for the thirty-eighth hunger games. How will he fare in the competition?
1. The reaping

Reaping day. I got up as usual, bored of the prospect. It was the same every year, and because our family never needed tesserae, the odds, as the capitol folk are fond of saying, were always in my favour. I put on my tunic and headed into the dining room, where mum left some bacon and potatoes for my breakfast. I scoffed it down quickly, then went out to do my chores. Despite being son of a farm-owner, I still get given work. Owning a farm in district 11 is one of the greatest accomplishments someone can achieve. The only main thing greater is to own several.

I finished my chores as fast as I could. After them, I visited my friend Cleo's house. Her mother answered the door. I knew the family was always extremely different today- Cleo's brother, Kai, had been selected via the reaping process three years ago. He was killed just four days into the games. He was the fourteenth tribute to die. The winner, the boy from district 3, smashed his neck with a mace. The family harboured a grudge against district 3 as a result. On reaping day, they looked and acted like ghosts; Semi-conscious and dazed.

I went to Cleo's room where her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The rest of her face was sickly pale. Poor girl, I thought to myself. Robbed of her brother by some scum wanting their kicks. Immediately, I asked how she was. She mumbled something about holding on to the world. I attempted standard conversation for a while, but reaping day isn't a normal day for anyone, let alone someone who lost a relative to it. Eventually, I just sat there with my hand around her shoulder, comforting her. It appeared that that was all my presence could do.

A few hours later, it was time to head to the justice building. I accompanied her all the way until boys and girls were separated. I went through all the procedures and checks, before heading to the waiting area. I searched through the crowd for my friends and found them.

"Dan!" I called to one of them. "Theo! Beech!" They noticed me and waved. I headed over to them. Dan and Theo were nervous as usual, but Beech just kept his look of indifference on his face.

"Hey Jem," said Theo when I reached them. "How's it going?"

"Alright, I guess," I replied. "I don't know why they bother making us come here, we'll never get picked."

"You can't know for sure you won't get reaped, Jem." Said Dan. He was shaking slightly. Unlike Cleo, Dan hadn't had any relatives or close ones sent into the games-he was just a really nervous person.

Beech spoke up. "Just because the odds are in your favour doesn't guarantee your safety. Unlike other districts, 11 doesn't get many volunteers."

"Yeah, whatever." I really didn't care. I just wanted to get this over with.

About half an hour later, the event began. The mayor stood at the microphone and made the usual speech-the chaos, the rise of Panem, the rebellion, blah, blah, blah. When he was finished, the escort for our district rose to commence the reaping. The escort was different from last ye was a small man, about a head shorter than Beech. With purple hair curled into a wig like fashion, a face covered in glittering emerald makeup and smiling as if he would die if he frowned, he looked like he belonged in some freak show. So did most of the capitol though.

"Well, well! Hello to all you lovely people of district eleven here today! And what a lovely day it is!"

The last part was completely untrue. The sky was filled with dark grey clouds, looking as though it might rain any moment.

"Alrighty then! Let's get the show on the road!" he cried, his voice filled with fake enthusiasm. "I think its good manners to let the ladies go first!"

He strode over to the girl's bowl, filled to nearly the top with little slips of paper. The man reached in and grabbed a slip from the top of the bowl. He unfurled it and paused for dramatic effect. I glanced over to where Cleo was standing. She looked like she may faint at any second. I remembered how many slips she had in-twenty seven I think it was. The man cleared his throat.

"And the female tribute from district eleven in the thirty-eighth Hunger Games is..." He paused again, in a failed attempt (in my view at least) to create tension. After a few seconds he called out.

"Leona Reed! Come on up Leona!"

Relief flooded through me. Cleo had been spared her brother's fate. I glanced over at her, where she hugged her friend, tears welling up in her eyes. I didn't really know who Leona was but as she walked up to the justice building, head hanging, I immediately felt sorry for her.

She looked to be only twelve or thirteen. She was small, even for her age, with long brown hair that covered her face. Leona looked skinny and weak. She looked shy and alone. No one would take her place. If I was one of those people who betted on the games, I'd bet half my savings she would be killed in the bloodbath.

Leona walked up the steps to the stage in silence. My guess was she was trying not to cry. The escort patted her on the back and kept acting cheerful. No one was amused by it. Half a minute after she got onto the stage, he decided to proceed.

"And now it's time for the boys!" he cried, strutting over to our bowl. This time he reached in and took one out from the centre of the bowl. My thoughts went to Beech. Unlike Theo, Dan and I, he signed up for tesserae. I hoped he wouldn't be picked. The man on stage opened the slip and shouted out.

"The male tribute for the thirty-eighth Hunger Games from eleven is Jeremiah Drude!"

I stood there motionless. My brain tried to function but it couldn't. I'd just been picked for the games. How? I had four slips in! I couldn't have been chosen! The odds were in my favour!

I looked to my friends. Beech stared at me with a look of sympathy. Dan and Theo were looking from the stage to me then to the stage again. I must have stood for a while because the man called out again.

"Jeremiah Drude? Please come up to the stage."

My feet moved of their own accord up to the stage, up to my death. I wanted to run, to hide and scream, kill myself now maybe, spare them the effort. But my feet kept moving up to the stage. I chose to keep the emotions in for now. Save them for later. Talk to mum and dad, Cleo and my mates, let them out then during the goodbyes, I thought. I stumbled onto the stage and walked up to the escort, who beamed with his stupid smile. I wanted to punch it right off his mutant face.

"Excellent, excellent!" he called out. "Well, folks here you have them-district eleven's tributes for this year's hunger games! Give them a hand, won't you!" He began clapping but all the people stayed silent. After a few moments and shaking Leona's hand, I was hurried into the justice building. I was put in a lushly decorated room filled with exquisite furniture. I picked up a cushion from a sofa, put it to my face and screamed into it.

I cried and screamed until my voice was hoarse and my tear ducts were empty. How could this have happened? It hadn't I told myself. This is all a nightmare. Just a bad dream, that's all. But I knew it wasn't. I curled up on the floor and stayed there until I heard footsteps approaching. It would be my friends and family with their final goodbyes. I would probably never see them again so I attempted to regain my composure. The door opened, showing my parents flanked by four peacekeepers.

"You have thirty minutes," one of them said to my dad coldly, before shutting the door. I ran to them and hugged them. My mum kept saying "Oh, Jem, my poor Jem, I'm so sorry." My dad tried to stay rational. After a few minutes I stopped hugging them and tried to talk about how to cope after I was gone. I told dad to keep running the farm and that if we had any leftover produce, to give it to the workers and Cleo's mum. I told him that, if he could, he should hire Beech. I told mum to stay normal and carry on with life. If they didn't freak out at my death or close themselves off from the world as some fallen tributes' parents had, they would be fine. Dad reminded me of some skills I could use.

"Wherever you are, find a good place to shelter for the night," he said to me. "Don't light a fire unless you're sure no one's nearby. If there's any weapon like a pitchfork or something at Cornucopia, run for it. You're fast, you can get it. Take what you can get from there, but get out quickly."

I nodded too all his advice, told him I would follow it. He was close to tears, trying not to break down. Mum said that she loved me and that I should try to stay warm and dry when I could. She told me not to drink anything without purifying it first. Everything my parents said aside from telling me they loved me was practical information on survival in the arena. Soon, the peacekeepers arrived and they have to leave. I hugged them one last time and told them I love them over and over. I kept saying that until the doors closed.

The next visitors were my friends.

"I'm so sorry, man," said Dan.

"Me too, Jem. I can't believe you were picked." Agreed Theo.

"I told you there were no guarantees Jem," said Beech. "I'm sorry this has happened, of course but don't let your arrogance fool you in the arena. You saw last year what happens if you get cocky."

I nodded at all of this. Beech is right and he knows it. Out of the four of us, he was the cleverest, the one who had the knowledge there when we needed it. The event he reffered to was when the tribute from district seven last year decided he could take down three careers by himself. He killed his ally then attacked the trio. Naturally, he didn't stand a chance. If he had't eliminated his partner beforehand, perhaps they would have succeeded.

We sat there in silence for most of the time. Beech told me what he could about hand-to-hand combat and some basic survival skills, while Dan and Theo informed me of some of some strategies they came up with in school when they were bored. I listened, took it all in, because for all I knew this information could save my life. And it probably did.

When the peacekeepers came to take them away, I them all, told them not to worry. The last thing I said to them was "Take care!" before the doors shut. Minutes later, my final visitor arrived. It was Cleo. Her face was even paler than before. I could have sworn even her hair had turned shades whiter from the shock of it. She hugged me and I hugged her. She didn't cry, just mumbled about how she lost her brother to these games and now she was losing her best friend. I felt awful. To be honest, I didn't mind that much about my death. Dying didn't scare me. It was the horrific thoughts of what would happen to my friends and parents that scared me. Would they recover and live on? I reckoned my parents and my mates would but Cleo I was unsure about.

"I'm sorry, Cleo" I mumbled, feeling wracked with guilt and sorrow.

"Don't be," She sniffed, attempting a smile. "You've been there for me when I needed you. It's not your fault."

"Cleo, if I die promise me one thing."

"Anything, Jem."

"Do not become a shell of yourself. Do not cut yourself off from the world. Live your life to the fullest. If you need support, go to my friends, my parents, your friends, anybody. Just don't exile yourself."

"I promise, Jem." she smlied at me tearfully. "I promise."

I kissed her and she hugged me. We stood in a silent embrace. When the peacekeepers came for the final time, I didn't want to let go. I kissed her one last time before I was taken to the train. The media crews swarmed the platform, cameras in every direction. I glanced over at Leona. She appeared to have kept her emotions in check better than i did. She had been crying, that much was obvious, but not as badly as I had been. When we finally boarded the train and were directed to our compartments, I threw myself on the bed and cried myself to sleep. The last thought I remember having was wondering how Kai reacted to his reaping.

* * *

**A/N: thanks for reading! Reviews would be welcome. I'll have the next part up soon which I think will be the interviews and some time at the training centre. Who knows? I might throw in the other reapings as well.**


	2. First day in the Capitol

I stood at the target practice in the training centre, attempting for the ninth time to hit the dummy in the forehead with the throwing knife I held. This time around I hit it straight in the head. That was three out of nine hits. I cursed and turned around, glancing at what the other tributes were doing. The boy from district ten was practicing tying knots at the rope station. Most of the careers swarmed around the weaponry stations-the maces, swords and battleaxes, and so on. The girl from district four was practicing with a net and trident. I made a mental note to try that weapon out soon. It looked similar to a pitchfork and I used to play around with one back at the farm. I was pretty adept with it so a trident shouldn't be much different.

Leona was over at the camouflage station, currently working on disguising herself as a rock. I had to admit, she had done it pretty well. With the faux scenery behind her, she looked like any of the other boulders, when she curled up into a ball. I reckoned if she grabbed enough supplies for a couple of weeks from Cornucopia and managed to disguise herself like that, she could probably just wait out the games and emerge the victor.

I turned my attention back to the throwing knives. I imagined the dummy to be the arrogant sod that was our escort. Surprisingly, it helped. I hit him straight in the neck from fifteen metres away. A bit taken aback, I walked towards the dummy and took all the knives I'd thrown off the back wall and the one from the neck. When I arrived back at the fifteen metre mark, I threw a knife, aiming for the heart. It landed exactly where I intended. I started throwing them rapidly, each blade hitting just as precisely as its predecessor. When I'd thrown all the knives, I heard a voice behind me.

"Nice throws." Said the voice. It was a girl's, probably sixteen or so. I turned around and saw my guess had been correct. She looked tired but content. She had long, blond hair, recently washed using the capitol's showers probably. She was about standard height for her age, a little shorter than me. She had hazel eyes and looked in good shape. My mentor had droned on and on about the importance of allies in the arena. I figured she would be someone good to have.

"Kaitlin Coil, district six." She said, offering a handshake.

"Thanks." I said accepting it. "Jeremy Drude, district eleven."

"District eleven? Where'd you learn to throw like that on a farm?" Her tone was clearly one of surprise. I didn't blame her.

"Honestly, I didn't ever throw anything really back home. I didn't expect to come here at all. Guess it's natural talent."

"Right," She replied, not convinced. She took a couple of knives out from the mannequin and walked back over to where I was standing. She threw them both simultaneously and they flew into the dummy's shoulders.

"Not bad." I remarked, though I was secretly impressed. "If you hit a person like that, I'd reckon their arms would be incapacitated. Which would give you the advantage."

"I figured that much. I practised throwing a spare knife I got one time at a wall in my room."

"Well six isn't a career district so you must have trained in different means."

"I didn't train for this." She snapped. "I didn't want to come here, just like you. I did that because I was bored." She was more than a little hurt at my notion which confused me.

"But I watched your reaping, you volunteered."

"Not because I wanted to. I did it for her. She was only fourteen. Her brother needed her. Me? I'm no use to anyone."

I got what she was on about. When we recapped the reapings, the girl from six looked like her family depended on her. Kaitlin must have taken her place to ensure their survival.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Well now you do." She walked off over to the climbing area and started practising. Sighing, I moved over to the trident and decided to do some practice.

* * *

"So, how was the first day of training?" asked our mentor Terence before taking a mouthful of roast chicken. We were sitting at a table in our quarters, having our dinner. I just had some vegetable soup and a glass of water, while Leona was eating a bit of this and a bit of that. Our mentors, Terence and Olivia had selected three meals each and were munching their way through them. I guess being a victor means you don't have to worry about food.

"Pretty good, I suppose." I mumbled, trying to sound optimistic. "I think I have a potential ally. Kaitlin, the girl from six. She's handy with a knife and seems trustworthy enough."

"Not a bad choice," remarked Olivia. "What about you Leona? Anyone you want to work with?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I mean, I'm okay with camouflage but no one wants to work with a twelve-year-old, especially one like me."

"Now dear, you mustn't think like that." said our escort, trying to comfort her. "I'm sure someone would like to have you on their side."

"Who? Who do you honestly think wants me as an ally? I'm useless."

I spoke up. "Have you tried any of the weapons? And even if not, I know a lot of good uses for camouflage. Like an ambush, for example. Or maybe stealth. Perhaps you could just wait things out if you're lucky."

"Okay two things." she replied back to me. "One- why are you giving me advice I could use to kill you? And two- the fact that I was reaped for these games doesn't make me unlucky?"

"Well I'm an advice-giving kind of person. As for the reaping- some people's luck changes. If you kill me, then that's my loss not yours."

Weirdly, I had come to terms with dying. It seemed inevitable anyways. There was no real way I could defeat the careers. If I managed to escape the bloodbath at Cornucopia, I had a chance of surviving for a week or so. It all depended on whether or not I could make any alliances. Which I probably wouldn't be too good at. My social skills were terrible. I could hold a simple conversation for a while and wasn't too bad when being asked things, but when I had to attempt to be friendly- that was like telling a fly to talk to a spider.

"Well, there was one person I think could be a decent ally," she mumbled. "The boy from eight. He spent most of his time at the camouflage and nature stations. He seemed friendly and must have similar ideas to me."

Olivia frowned. "The games aren't about choosing who you like. It's about survival. To survive you need the best teammates possible. A boy who's friendly and can disguise himself as a bush while living on one isn't the best possible choice."

"Well, whatever happens, I'm sure you'll both do well." claimed our escort. The combined glares from the four of us made him hastily return to eating his food. We ate the rest of the meal in silence and afterwards, I headed to my room for a shower, while the others went to view the Capitol's report on the games. After the shower, I was too tired to care about anything, so I just collapsed on my bed and fell instantly asleep.

* * *

**A/N: thanks for reading! Sorry this took a while. If anyone's confused as to why Kaitlin volunteered, I'll make it clear soon. Regardless, I've got three tributes solved! Awesome! If anyone wants to put in a tribute or character (say a captiol fan) just ask me. Next chapter will be up soon.**

**Oh yeah disclaimer (I know it should be up top but whatever) *clears throat*: I own nothing concerning the hunger games except for my characters and my copies of the books. Everything else belongs to Suzanne Collins, the awesome person she is. Except for any copies anyone else owns. **


	3. First night in the Capitol

I was in the arena, but none of the tributes but the careers could leave the entrance plates. Those that did were instantly blown up. I could only stand and watch as they butchered tribute after tribute, nearing closer and closer to me. The sound of the Capitol folk cheering and laughing echoed throughout the arena, intensifying after each kill. Then I saw my friends; they were all on entrance plates too. The careers reached Dan first- They slashed off his arms and decapitated him. Theo screamed and ran into the mines. They only took off his legs so his cries of pain continued until the district 2 boy silenced him. Beech attempted to fight them off and grabbed a broadsword from the district 1 girl. Then the tracker jackers came.

Somehow the careers were invulnerable to everything that hit them. The trackers stung Beech to death, turning his body into a grotesque lump that was unrecognisable. Then there was Cleo. She was stung and hacked at all the time screaming and begging for help. I just stood there, powerless. My body was immobile. My head didn't make sense. It all hurt so much. I toppled over, towards the mines...

I woke up shivering with fear. I was back in my luxurious quarters above the training centre. It was just a dream, I told myself. Just a dream, nothing more. You're friends are fine. I was still very scared, so I walked to the shower, shaking all the way. I turned it on, setting it to "relaxation mode." The hot water calmed me and made me feel safe as my body became warm. I kept talking to myself. You're fine, I said. The dream wasn't real. Relax.

I staggered back to my bed after drying off. My body was still shaking, so I decided to go up to the roof. I quickly got dressed into some warm clothes and headed towards the lift. I pressed the roof button and waited until the doors opened again. This time, instead of a living room entrance greeting me, I was welcomed by the sight of a magnificent garden.

Exotic and beautiful plants swarmed around the centre of the roof. I didn't know any of their names, but many were definitely not from home. I turned away from this display of flora and looked out to the Capitol. What a contrast. Metal building after metal building, as far as the eye could see. What a weird combination of sights.

I sat there on the roof for a long time. I can't remember how long exactly. Probably a couple of hours, maybe four at most. Eventually, I pulled myself up and headed down back to my room. I didn't want to return to the nightmares, but I needed the sleep. I thought about the opening ceremony and the train ride here. I was too detached during both of these to care about anything really. Terence didn't help: he had probably given up trying to comfort tributes after his first few years as a mentor. Olivia was a bit more caring, but she'd only been a mentor for three years now. My stylist was an idiot from what I remember. My costume was as stupid as he was.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't notice I'd reached my bedroom again. I sighed, kept calm, then climbed back into the nightmares.

* * *

I woke up in the morning, tired from a mainly sleepless night. What little rest I had acquired was a fitful dreamless doze, filled with thoughts of horrific things. I wondered how the other tributes had coped with their first real nights in the Capitol. As I wandered into the dining room, The smells of food made me lose my train of thought. The smell of honey for one; its sweet, gorgeous aroma pulling me towards it. I was the last person up, but no one was really bothered. They were all too busy eating.

I grabbed some bread from district three that was on the table and dipped it in the honey before ripping a chunk out of it with my teeth. The taste was fantastic. It was one of the sweetest foods I've ever eaten. It was even more delicious than Mrs Hilard's cakes from the bakery, which even my family could only afford for special occasions. The combination of the two foods made me moan. "Oh my god." I said. I then opened my eyes and saw the rest of the breakfast party. All eyes looked at me bewildered and amused at my reaction. "What?" I said in response to and unasked question of what was I doing. "It's good food."

Eating continued and I was allowed to finish off my bread and honey in fantastic peace. The taste made me feel as though I wasn't about to be put to death in an arena of children, some of whom were bloodthirsty maniacs: I felt in a beautiful foreign land, surrounded by family and friends, luscious wildlife and luxuries even the capitol could never give me. Then Terence sent a tiger into my thoughts along with an earthquake, destroying my peace with the phrase, "You'd better hurry up. Training starts soon."

I sighed, took a sip of milk, chewed the rest of my bread, and headed down to the training centre for more practice. Maybe I'd make another ally, I thought. That's what I wanted; friends not enemies.

* * *

**A/N: thanks again for reading! Really sorry this took so long to come out and its shorter than my previous chapters. I'd give you reasons like homework and school, but while they're true, I really just haven't got round to making this chapter. Again, sorry if it seems a little like its one thing here and then the next there but I was writing little bits at a time. I promise I'll try and update more regularly in the future.**


	4. Gamemakers session

I sat in the waiting room, shaking. The gamemakers were judging the performances of all the tributes. It was district eight's male in at that moment. The remaining tributes sat in an awkward silence. I glanced over at the pairs from ten and twelve. The former wore a face a pale shade of white, each the exact same colour. I weighed them up in my mind. Medium height, medium weight, and neither had really seemed talented at anything in the training centre. I could take them on.

The girl from twelve sat unmoving, her eyes staring into space. It wasn't difficult to deduce she was imagining being in some other time and place, away from the horror that awaited her in the arena. Her companion, the boy, was on the other end of the scale. He was barely containing his fear. The look on his face showed he was almost at breaking point where he would either run around screaming or break down crying. Thankfully, he held together and did neither.

Soon, the girl from eight went in and rapidly afterwards the tributes from nine and ten. I didn't like the district nine male- everything about him screamed "psycho." Before I knew it, my name was called. Exhaling and trying to stay calm, I stood up and walked into the training centre.

Four of the gamemakers were no longer caring about the tributes and were feasting on a platter of seafood. The others looked at me as I entered, but many were clearly losing interest in the competitors fast. Panic began to rise up inside me. I had no idea what to do. Terence had been no help- his words to me when I approached him on the matter of impressing the gamemakers were "if you don't have a plan already, you'll think of something at the time." Well guess what Terence? I'm at the time and nothing's coming.

I stumbled over to the throwing knife station. If I could show them some of my weaponry skills, I could get some marks. I picked up a blade, but the fear made my hand shake so much, it slipped out of my hand onto the floor. A couple of the gamemakers sniggered, but I ignored them. Picking up the dagger, I turned to one of the dummies and threw it with all my might. The knife sailed through the air and embedded itself- in the far wall. I had completely missed my target. Infuriated and cheeks turned red, I stumbled over to the centre of the room, trying to blot out the laughs of the viewers.

Suddenly it hit me. Terence was right; I did think of something there and then. I reckoned I'd lost five minutes with the knives, but there was enough time left to set up this plan. First, I took most of the weapons from their stands and piled them up in the centre of the room. Next, I took the dummies and mannequins and positioned them at varying areas around the pile. By then, I'd caught most of the gamemakers' attentions. I made sure I'd put various items in the weapons pile too; weapon stands, strands of rope, camouflage, anything in the area really. Finally, I took a shield and a knife and retreated to the wall farthest from the heap.

Most of the judges had caught on to what I was doing: re-enacting the Cornucopia bloodbath. I counted to sixty under my breath before banging the hilt of the knife against the shield in an attempt to mimic the gong after the tributes are allowed of the mines. I sprinted towards the pile and searched frantically for items of use. Grabbing six knives and a trident, I turned and unleashed three daggers into three "tributes." The blows landed straight into the dummies' head and the trio crumpled to the ground. Bombarding another three with my second wave, I plucked a shield from the heap and charged at the nearest mannequin.

The body of straw was impaled by the chest on my weapon. Seven down, by my hand alone. I turned and bashed another mannequin in the face followed by a swift kick to the groin. I was in an uncontrollable rage. Yelling a battle cry, two more "tributes" were speared on my trident. I ran back to the pile and grabbed two lengths of rope and some camouflage, as if I was grabbing actual supplies. I bashed one dummy that was in the way of my departure before sprinting off back to the corner I started at. I dumped my weapons down and began breathing heavily. I glanced up and saw all the gamemakers staring at me. They looked quite surprised.

"What?" I got out when my breathing returned to normal. "You want me to do more?"

The head gamemaker, Lucius Caecilius, stood up and cleared his throat. "No, I think you've shown us enough, boy. You may leave now."

I thanked him and walked towards the elevator. All the gamemakers were whispering and debating. I'm surprised no one came up with that idea before, based on the way they're acting. Thirty eight years of this, times twenty-four and you'd figure someone would have tried Cornucopia. Ah well, what's done is done I thought as I pressed "eleven" and the metal doors closed on me and I rose up to the suite.

* * *

"So, how did your session with the gamemakers go?"

We sat in the living room, Olivia, Terence, Leona, our escort and me. The results were to be announced in ten minutes on television, so we were just trying to kill time, as the phrase goes.

"Mine went good enough I suppose." I said.

"Oh, really?" sparked up Terence. "And what was it you did?"

"Well, I re-enacted Cornucopia."

For some reason, Terence burst into hysterical laughter. He was rolling on the floor in fits while I stood there, dumbfounded. What the hell had I said that was so funny? I was just about to kick him and tell him to say what was so god damn funny, when Olivia did it for me. He swiftly apologised which was, in his own words, "I, heh, dunno what came over..." before another fit of laughter, though less crazy than the previous.

"What I think my fellow mentor means to say," said Olivia, with a look of ice towards her companion who was giggling away in his chair. "Is that your choice was a very original and good style of approach to impressing the gamemakers. I've no doubt they were pleased by your performance."

"Hahahaha! Attacking mannequins! That's a good one kid! Real shocker! Ehehehehehe!"

I said nothing, but got up and punched him squared in the ribs.

"ehehehehehehaaauuuooogh!"

Ignoring his gasps for air, I returned to my couch. "What'd you do Leona?" I asked. Probably some camouflage, I reckoned.

"Well, at first, I tried some camouflage..." she began. As I expected. "But then, I figured they'd think I'd do something so bland. So I took a bunch of rope, some weapons and stuff and designed a kind of trap."

That took me off my feet. Leona hadn't been to the trap station when I'd been watching her. "How do you know traps?" I asked, confused.

"Learned a couple back home to keep predators away from the fields," she replied, as if I'd just asked her what two plus two equaled. "I simply adapted them to what resources were available. Essentially, the dummy got tangled in a bunch of ropes and fell onto a pile of knives and spears. Not too complex, but effective."

Everyone sat in silence, amazed. Leona had never mentioned knowing how to do traps before. I guess she didn't want to give away too much too fast. I made a mental note not to trust her.

"Wow," said Terence. "Nice job. I seriously didn't know you had it in you, Leona."

At this compliment, she blushed and turned away shyly. "It wasn't much really. I'll probably only get a five at most."

The conversation was interrupted by the TV switching itself on and Panem's anthem blazing from the speakers. Our escort, Alator clapped his hands together in a childish, "oh goodee!" way. Claudius Templesmith, the new Hunger games TV representative (Quintus Restorius retired from the job last year), beamed at the camera and half-shouted his words, such was his enthusiasm. He started rolling off the tributes' scores. I noticed Kaitlin from six got an eight and the boy from eight Leona liked managed a seven. The careers managed nines mostly and the "psycho" from nine acquired an eight. Then it came to district eleven.

"And now district eleven! The male tribute, at fifteen years old, Jeremiah Drude, has attained a nine! Wow, that's one of the highest marks from an eleven in hunger games history!"

I was surprised I managed that much. Seven was about the highest I was expecting. Alator and the two mentors applauded me. I shied away slightly, blushing.

"And the female tribute, twelve-year-old Leona Reed. Wow, this is a surprise. Apparently for her, with youth comes talent, because she has an impressive seven!"

The applause from Alator and our mentors was huge. As I had done, she turned away, embarrassed. I made mental note number two to not trust her. The duo from twelve only got a four and two so, they probably would be killed during the bloodbath or the second day. I thought about how I had changed since having entered the games. Back at home, they seemed so far away and only an annual bore. There though, I was no longer the farmer's son; I was a survivior.

* * *

**A/N: thanks for reading! Next part up soon. I think it'll be the interview(or maybe interviews, I dunno yet), but who knows?**


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